Part 31 (2/2)

”Dear me! after your candy?” said Polly.

”That's all gone,” said Joel, tooting around the table on his whistle.

”What are we going to have for breakfast?”

”Same as ever,” said his mother; ”it can't be Christmas all the time.”

”I wish 'twas,” said little Davie; ”forever and ever!”

”Forever an' ever,” echoed little Phronsie, flying up, her cheeks like two pinks, and Seraphina in her arms with her bonnet on upside down.

”Dear, dear,” said Polly, pinching Ben to keep still as they tumbled down the little rickety steps to the Provision Room, after breakfast.

The children, content in their treasures, were holding high carnival in the kitchen. ”Suppose they should find it out now--I declare I should feel most awfully. Isn't it elegant?” she asked, in a subdued whisper, going all around and around the tree, magnificent in its dress of bright red and yellow b.a.l.l.s, white festoons, and little candle-ends all ready for lighting. ”Oh, Ben, did you lock the door?”

”Yes,” he said. ”That's a mouse,” he added, as a little rustling noise made Polly stop where she stood back of the tree and p.r.i.c.k up her ears in great distress of mind. ”'Tis elegant,” he said, turning around in admiration, and taking in the tree which, as Polly said, was quite ”gorgeous,” and the evergreen branches twisted up on the beams and rafters, and all the other festive arrangements. ”Even j.a.ppy's isn't better, I don't believe!”

”I wish j.a.ppy was here,” said Polly with a small sigh.

”Well, he isn't,” said Ben; ”come, we must go back into the kitchen, or all the children will be out here. Look your last, Polly; 'twon't do to come again till it's time to light up.”

”Mammy says she'd rather do the lighting up,” said Polly. ”Had she?”

said Ben, in surprise; ”oh, I suppose she's afraid we'll set somethin'

a-fire. Well, then, we shan't come in till we have it.”

”I can't bear to go,” said Polly, turning reluctantly away; ”it's most beautiful--oh, Ben,” and she faced him for the five-hundredth time with the question, ”is your Santa Claus dress all safe?”

”Yes,” said Ben, ”I'll warrant they won't find that in one hurry! Such a time as we've had to make it!”

”I know it,” laughed Polly; ”don't that cotton wool look just like bits of fur, Ben?”

”Yes,” said Ben, ”and when the flour's shaken over me it'll be Santa himself.”

”We've got to put back the hair into mamsie's cus.h.i.+on the first thing to-morrow,” whispered Polly anxiously, ”and we mustn't forget it, Bensie.”

”I want to keep the wig awfully,” said Ben. ”You did make that just magnificent, Polly!”

”If you could see yourself,” giggled Polly; ”did you put it in the straw bed? and are you sure you pulled the ticking over it smooth?”

”Yes, sir,” replied Ben, ”sure's my name's Ben Pepper! if you'll only keep them from seeing me when I'm in it till we're ready--that's all I ask.”

”Well,” said Polly a little relieved, ”but I hope Joe won't look.”

”Come on! they're a-comin'!” whispered Ben; ”quick!”

”Polly!” rang a voice dangerously near; so near that Polly, speeding over the stairs to intercept it, nearly fell on her nose.

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